


Bossy Doctor Blue-eyed Beck

by Canon_Is_Relative



Series: Doctor Bossy-Beck [1]
Category: The Martian (2015), The Martian - All Media Types, The Martian - Andy Weir
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Painkillers, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 16:14:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5055319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canon_Is_Relative/pseuds/Canon_Is_Relative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was just plain dumb luck that Martinez and Vogel had been passing by his bunk on their way to their own beds and overheard the beginning of Mark’s declamations.</p><p>For the prompt: <i>Gimme Mark getting into an accident and then when he's high on painkillers he starts waxing poetic about Beck's beautiful face while Beck's trying to patch him up and trying not to die of embarrassment as the rest of the crew dies laughing.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Bossy Doctor Blue-eyed Beck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ImpishTubist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImpishTubist/gifts).



> Compliant with book and movie canon. I just can't seem to help borrowing the movie's "Hey handsome!" line, but although I love Bucky-Beck, [I also can't help but see him the way Imp first introduced him to me.](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/85/57/09/8557090b67c79d95c7079eb2fb06a8d0.jpg)
> 
> Originally posted [here](http://canonisrelative.livejournal.com/75790.html).

“But guys, guys! Jo—Johan…Beth! You hear me, right? You  _know_. You’ve seen them up close, you  _know!_ ” Mark made a grab for Beth’s sleeve, missed, tried again, and nearly tumbled himself out of the bunk. Chris got an arm across his chest to hold him in place, which was…perhaps not the wisest course of action.

 

“Hey, handsome,” Mark slurred, abandoning his quest for validation from Beth and reaching instead for Chris, one hand patting clumsily along his neck, the other landing on his arm. “You are, you know? He doesn’t know!” Mark’s face contorted with the unfairness of it all, that Chris didn’t  _know_ …whatever it was he was supposed to know. Chris reached for his medical bag when Mark finally let go of his arm, shaking his head and catching sight of Martinez, who was leaning in the doorway and not even pretending he wasn’t enjoying every second of this, the asshole.

 

“Guys, I need some room here,” Chris said, ineffectually trying to crowd the onlookers out of the cramped confines of his bunk-slash-sick-bay. He was ineffectual largely thanks to Mark getting a surprisingly good grip on his ear, and the fact that entertainment was pretty thin on the ground these days, barely 100 days into their 211-day trip back to Earth.

 

“You don’t know either, Martinez, but you should! Tell him, Bethy!”

 

Mark hadn’t shut up, didn’t even pause when Chris sighed and pulled back his eyelids to check his pupillary response. He’d had to administer a substantially higher dose of painkillers than anticipated before the effects had kicked in, probably thanks to Mark overindulging when he was down on Mars, and once they had, it was just plain dumb luck that Martinez and Vogel had been passing by his bunk on their way to their own beds and overheard the beginning of Mark’s declamations. After about five minutes of,  _Don’t call ‘em crow’s feet, that’s…that’s pejorative! More like…hawk’s feet, no, eagle's! Majestic eagle’s feet!_ Martinez had roused Johanssen, and Chris’s life was effectively over.

 

“He doesn’t know,” Mark was focussed blurrily on Johanssen, who was hanging on to the door frame, tears running down her cheeks as she shook with silent laughter. “He doesn’t  _know_  how…how  _great_  his eyes are! They’re like…” He trailed off, sighed, and with great effort turned his head to look first at Chris’s left eye, then his right. “They’re blue as the summer sky over Sandusky. Hey!” Momentarily coherent, he snapped his eyes to Martinez when the man let out a loud snort. “I remember what you said about Ohio, you thought I forgot, but I didn’t, and I’m still waiting on your apology. He’s takin’ advantage of me, Chris,” Mark said plaintively, waving his arms and thwarting Chris’s attempt to do his job and get this over with. “He’s takin’ advantage of my magnanimity.”

 

“Woah-hoh, look at Watney go, dropping the big boy words when he’s high as a kite,” Martinez laughed.

 

“Could you, just this once, not encourage him?” Chris asked from between clenched teeth.

 

“Bossy Beck,” Mark sing-songed, closing his eyes and rolling his head on his pillow like a spoiled cat. “Bossy doctor blue-eyed Beck.”

 

“I had not before noticed,” Vogel said in that disturbingly mild way of his, “but  _ja_ , Doctor, your eyes, they are extremely blue. Very beautiful.”

 

Chris covered his face with his hands, giving up. “I hate you all.”

 

“Why does Beck hate you all?” Lewis had appeared in the doorway, standing with her arms crossed.

 

“He doesn’t,” Mark was honest-to-god giggling. “Least, he doesn’t hate  _me._ ”

 

“How’s he doing?” Lewis asked, nodding to her poor, injured, infuriating crewman.

 

“He’s—“ Chris started, then grabbed for Mark, who was trying to sit upright, clearly only just registering Lewis’s presence.

 

“Commander!” Mark said, pushing against Chris. “Thank God you’re here! You have to tell him, he’ll believe you!”

 

“Who will believe me about what?” Lewis asked, moving smoothly into the room and pushing Mark back, gently but firmly. He went willingly under her hands but continued to gaze up at her, gripping her hand, painfully earnest.

 

“Beck. Doctor Beck. You have to  _order_  him to believe me!”

 

“Okay,” she said with a small smile. “Consider it an order. What do you need Beck to believe?”

 

Mark nodded and closed his eyes for a moment, a look of absurd gratitude washing over his face. “Okay. Good.” He looked up at Chris. “Christopher Michael Beck. Your face is more beautiful than the sun and your, your eyes are bluer than NASA! You make my heart feel like a sprouting potato plant, only…only one that wasn’t grown in shit. No! Strike that, that sounds terrible and…and nothing about you can be terrible, everything's more…s’even better’n the last.” Mark was finally fading, his eyelashes fluttering in time to the painful crash of Chris’s heart against his ribs. He thought about what Mark had told him, how it felt to drive around with the RTG riding shotgun. If the crew was laughing at any of this he couldn’t hear it, but then again his face had flushed so hot his eardrums had probably burned out.

 

There was movement in his periphery, and Chris dared a glance over towards the door. Martinez was leaning across the room, clapping a hand to Mark’s ankle and giving him a shake. “Watney, bro, I love you, but you are a shitty poet, my friend.”

 

“Fuck you,” Mark said, rolling onto his uninjured side and groping for a blanket. “Have you know I was the greatest poet on Mars.”

 

“Let’s let Beck get back to work,” Lewis said quietly after a moment, and with furtive grins and muted murmurs, the crew shuffled out. Lewis paused in the doorway and turned to look Chris in the eye. “I’d say you’re crazy, for starting something like this. But…I’m fairly sure it wasn't you who initiated it.”

 

Chris swallowed and glanced at Mark, then shrugged. “Pretty sure I’m crazy any way you slice it.”

 

Lewis gave a soft laugh. “Well, who on this ship isn’t.” She straightened. “I want you both to come see me, as soon as he’s back on his feet. Until then, just…do what you have to do. Take care of him.”

 

“Yes, Commander,” he nodded, and met her eyes. “I always do.”

 

“I know you do,” she said, turning to leave. “Doctor Bossy-Beck.”

 

Chris groaned as soon as the door latched shut and dropped down on the bunk beside Mark.

 

“I really hate you, you know that, Watney?”

 

“Nah,” Mark mumbled, pressing his head back against Chris’s thigh. “Love me.”

 

Chris folded himself over Mark, careful of his bandages, and rested his lips against Mark’s temple. “If you insist.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is love! For one thing, I'm torn about using first names vs last when writing from either Chris Beck or Mark Watney's third-person POV, so any thoughts on that would be appreciated!


End file.
